Broken
by Goldie Gamgee
Summary: When one of the most eligible bachelors in the Shire begins to court a lass of lower status than him, it's bound to cause a controversy. Tongues begin to wag and the pair must fight against the cruelness of society in what results in a broken love affair. Hear out the story of Frodo Baggins and Daisy Gamgee—the two hobbits who tried so very hard to make their relationship work out.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hi! Hope you enjoy this fanfic—it's my first AU fanfiction on this site. First chapter is simply the poem I wrote that I based the fic on. Second chapter should be up soon. :)**

The land was young

and the grass forever lush,

Voices ring from a small green dell, the songs

of two love-struck tweens,

She still feels the echo of his hand touching hers,

A small memento of the first day they spent together.

...

Ivy grows around them, blinking in the twilight

like flickering flame, she

is the loveliness surpassing the brightest of stars

He sees them stare, and hesitates, and

she tells him to ignore it.

...

His heart throbs in her arms, she

can feel his breath catch as he sinks further under her spell

the world slows down, it echoes, he gasps

for air, breathing heavily, choking and

he runs. He can satisfy himself with

something else,

but it never touched him quite the same.

...

He's forgotten, and she weeps

into the long aching nights she spent remembering

his fingertips. He leaves without a sound and they've taken him

for dead. The ivy wilts,

and new roots will not take hold somehow;

Her vicinity is slippery with his ghost.

...

He returns, but he is empty with a

cavernous hole she never could fit into, or maybe

just couldn't fill. He screams in the night, and

she cannot comfort him. Around them, the dark

wraps its' long spidery fingers.

...

The sea takes him, and her memory

is left behind

He cannot bear to think about it, so he doesn't

Gingerly, she presses the bruise, and finds it hurts

the same as it did

things are lost when they do not bloom

in a world that is evergreen.

**A/N: Like it? Hate it? Review! (It kinda sums up the plot a bit, but oh well.)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait! Just a bit of procrastination… I had two other fics going as well, but one of them is finished now, so yay!**

**I hope Daisy doesn't come across as a Mary-sue… if you tell me she is, then I won't be surprised. But she gets better in the next chapter.**

…..

[S.R. 1417, 12th Astron]

_The land was young_

_and the grass forever lush,_

_Voices ring from a small green dell, the songs_

_of two love-struck tweens,_

_She still feels the echo of his hand touching hers, _

_A small memento of the first day they spent together. _

…..

There were hobbits. Everywhere there were hobbits—eating food, laughing, talking, and playing by the riverside.

The large party were sitting on a rather idyllic spot along the Brandywine, and were a mixture of families ranging from Gamgees to Tooks.

The entire affair was—for lack of a better name—a rather spontaneous, free-for-all picnic. Nobody knew from which the idea had sprouted—or why, for that matter—but it was a good one, remarked some.

Each of the parties had brought food, and all of it was set out on rugs down the riverside. Drink had been provided, too, of course.

The adults sat on the rugs and chatted amongst themselves, some smoking pipes. The children had all run down to the riverbank to splash each other and play made-up games with sticks. There was a general jovial contentment.

One member of the party, however, was not sitting on rugs chatting. Nor was he down by the river playing games with the children.

He had slipped away from the merriment into the trees beyond the bank, seeking solitude.

It would not have surprised anyone, though. Frodo Baggins was considered a little queer among the hobbits.

…..

Frodo wandered among the trees, immersed in his thoughts.

Here, the thoughts could be unbroken, could play through his mind freely, instead of the jumbled mess of words and phrases and images that had been bobbing around his head for a while lately.

Light streamed through the gaps in the branches. He ran a hand along the trunks of the trees, before selecting one and hoisting himself onto the lowest branch.

He then proceeded to climb the tree with no less grace then a tree dwelling primate. Most hobbits preferred to stay on the ground, but then again—Frodo was not like most hobbits. Besides, it was not the height he sought, but the feeling of fearlessness he felt when climbing and sitting in a tree.

He continued until he was about half way up, and found a comfortable branch of which he could sit on.

And then he began to un-jumble his thoughts.

He was so focussed on this task that he did not hear the swishing of the overgrown grass as someone else approached. He did, however, hear the voice that floated from the ground up to him.

"Whatcha doin' up there?"

It was a nice voice—it seemed burnished, a bit husky; but it was definitely the voice of a hobbitess. It seemed familiar, but Frodo wasn't sure where he had heard it before…

He swung back down a few branches, before jumping the last metre or so to the ground (with only a little bit of ground shock). He looked up at the person.

She was rather stout, but slight for hobbit standards—and had the round face and large, warm eyes of a Gamgee.

"Frodo," She greeted him, flicking a honey coloured curl over her shoulder, "Haven't seen you around for a while."

"Daisy," said Frodo, wondering when it last was that he had seen her (or when she had grown up). She didn't seem like the bouncy lass he had known for years—known, if only as an acquaintance.

She was taller, for one—or perhaps she wasn't, but held herself higher. She didn't have the stance of her younger Gamgee sisters; or her older brothers, actually. She was proud as she held her head high and kept her gaze level with his, and she had a sweeping body language that gave her an air of control.

And she was denser, much denser, but lighter all the same.

It confused Frodo greatly, but he kept clearheaded and smiled back at her. "I just came back here to be alone,"

"Oh, would you like me to leave?" Daisy seemed to lose all of her densities, and her eyes became wide and child-like. Her voice felt like warm cider, thought Frodo.

"No!" He said (a little too quickly, he thought afterwards) "No, you can stay."

"Why?" Daisy asked, "Why me and not others?"

Frodo was stuck. "Uh…" He mumbled, trying desperately to search for an answer and all the way cursing himself for being such a fool.

"No matter." Daisy smiled, "So, what were you doing before I so rudely interrupted you?"

"Just sitting in this tree," Frodo replied, gesturing towards the tree as if to illustrate his point.

Daisy nodded as if it was a reasonable idea. "May I join you?"

Frodo frowned, "Lasses don't climb trees, though."

He regretted the words as soon as they came out of his mouth.

Daisy raised her eyebrows and gave him a look of irritation. "_Lasses_ _don't climb trees_, you say?"

Frodo nodded, and then hastily began to say, "Well, trees are tricky to navigate in a dress—"

"I do hope you do not speak from experience," said Daisy, her eyebrows rising further on her forehead, "And I," She found the lowest branch, "Am a special sort of lass."

She began to climb. Frodo followed, trying not to look up her skirts (which, of course, meant he had no idea where he was going). He was angry with himself for letting her catch him off guard with comments like that. They reached a large branch and settled on it.

"What do you mean, 'you're a special sort of lass'?" Frodo raised his eyebrows, unimpressed.

"Well," Daisy said briskly, "Frodo, it is a simple matter that I am the first lass to catch your attention in thirty years." And with that, she hopped down the tree.

Frodo gaped, unable to form a coherent sentence.

Then he followed her.

She was walking away when he reached the ground. He was angry but curious as well, and several un-Frodo like thoughts were racing through his mind. He had come here to sort out his mind—instead it was more jumbled than when he had walked in.

He opened his mouth to say something, but she swivelled around and spoke first.

"I expect we will see each other again, Frodo Baggins." She smiled sweetly, and moved forward to touch his hand. Their faces were close for a split second, before she smiled sweetly and skipped away.

Frodo stopped in his tracks, more confused and upset than ever. But still on his fingers lingered her hand, and still in his mind lingered her voice.

It had no longer been like warm cider, but an exotic wine, sweet and powerful and intoxicating.

Frodo kicked himself. He was wrapped round her little finger, and he was perfectly aware of it—but he could not seem to push the meeting out of his head; when they had spoken it had felt like dancing, and he had been drunk on her voice. Their words seemed to sing in his mind.

He turned back toward the tree, but not before a un-Frodo like thought caught him unawares.

_I must see her again._

…..

**A/N: It's a bit different from the poem, but it's only based on the poem.**

**REVIEW! Review and get apple pie. Hopefully the update doesn't take too long, but I'm starting high school tomorrow… **


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